How 2p Hetalians were born!
by ncalkins
Summary: Russia used poision. The nations thought America died. England made a choice, that's how the 2p's came alive. (
1. It begins

_**Prolong**_

Russia stood in the corner of the meeting room, the meeting had just ended for lunch. He was the only one in the room now and America had left his large morning soda behind. With quick silent footsteps he made his way to the cup with a vile of poison in his left hand. He popped open the lid and poured the colorless and odorless toxin into the carbohydrate drink. He watched as the drink fizzed and then settled leaving no trace of any added ingredients.

A smile crept on his face, "This should keep America away for some time."

His head snapped toward the door he could hear heavy foot steps making their way to the conference room.

"I'll be back soon Canada, just wait for a minute I forgot my drink."

Russia rushed back over to his briefcase and began to place papers in it, trying to look innocent. America walked into the room with a laugh, he stopped short however when he saw Russia.

"What are you doing here?" America asked, blue eyes lit with suspicion.

"Getting my papers, before I leave for lunch. I am not forgetful like some people." Russia waved a hand to the cardboard cup and then clicked his briefcase shut.

He walked out of the room, feeling America's weary eyes on him until the door closed. Russia left the hall way feeling accomplished and like someone was watching him from the corner or the hall.

America turned to his drink shaking off the suspicion that had filled him mind. He reached it and shook the container, hearing a hissing sound from within. The liquid was low so he shrugged, popped off the top and chugged it down. America made a face, it tasted flat which was strange because it was a special soda that Tony made to make sure it never became flat. America turned around ready to go to lunch with his favorite brother Canada, when everything began to swim in front of his eyes. Then darkness took over.

America heard a thump and quickly opened his eyes to see…..He's body sprawled on the floor?!

"What the hell?!" He shouted as he heard Canada call from outside the door, "Al, are you coming?"

"America?" A sweet voice that he hadn't heard in centuries called from behind him.

America turned around, blue eyes widened. He's mouth opened and he whispered in shock.

"Mom?"

Native America stood in all her brown clothed glory in front of a white light. Her warm brown eyes welcomed her son, dark hair was braided and falling over her shoulder.

"Mom, what's going on? Why am I on the floor?"

She looked at him with pity, she knew what was to come for the nations and her poor babies. "You're in a coma and having an out-of-body experience. I'm to lead you to where all nations that are now history are for a little while until your called back."

Blue eyes looked at her in confusion. "How'd I get into a coma?"

"Russia, poisoned your drink."

"That-!" America started but stopped looking at Native America. He couldn't cuss in front of a lady and especially not in front of his mom.

She smiled at him kindly and held out her hand. "Come with me."

He took her hand and started to walk to the light. She turned her had to the young man walking beside her and said, "One warning through. When you wake up, you won't remember until it's too late."

Blond eyebrows furrowed, America would have asked what she meant however he was distracted by the last sound he would hear. The door creaked open and Canada came in, the last sound America heard was Canada screaming in anguish, "AMERICA!"

Everything went white as mother and son stepped through the portal. Leaving Canada in his grief and the other nations to rush in to see the tragedy before them.

"W-what happened?" England asked, swallowing, green eyes jumping from Canada's kneeling form to America's immobile form.

"I-I don't know. We were going to lunch, he was taking too long so I came in to check and…" Canada trailed off eyes darkening he snapped his head toward Russia, jumping up he shouted, "RUSSIA!"

"Da?" Russia said pleasantly watching the chaos around him, some how this was sweeter then he ever imagined.

"What did you do?" Canada hissed he felt something rising within him.

"I don't know what you mean comrade." Russia said with a fake hurt voice, noticing China was kneeling next to America.

"You were the last person in here with America and now he's….he's…" Canada waved his hand to America's knocked out being.

"Dead." China whispered in a horrified voice, all the nations heard him. Canada's arm dropped and the fight went out of him, Russia looked taken aback he was not expecting that.

It was conformed America was dead there was no pulse to be found, all the counties had been informed and a funeral was held. They all gathered around for their fallen number. No one was smiling, some were crying others tried to look indifferent but you could see their worry what would become of them now that the world's super power was gone. Any joy a country could feel was squashed violently, they needed America's help and this would only hurt all of them if the influential country fell. Slowly the mourning walked away.

Belarus was walking beside her sister who was crying heavily, anyone who looked at the knife wielding country would think she was unfeeling unless you looked at her hands. They were wringing her dress and she didn't even think twice at leaving her brother.

Others left, China and Japan left silently. Germany comforted a crying Northern Italy promising gelato to try to get his mind off of this lost. Romano was pulled away by Spain trying to disguise his whimpers as coughs and his gathering tears as the rain that had not yet fallen. Spain kept silent blinking back tears, this shook him up but not as bad as Prussia. Prussia was silent as he wondered off alone heading home to Germany's basement. France led a shell-shocked England away from the graveyard as rain began to fall, it fell heavily causing more nations to leave rapidly. Until only two were left.

Russia walked forward, boots stomping on green grass. He peered down at the headstone, lighting flashed illuminating the writing on the stone.

_Alfred F. Jones_

_July 4__th__ 1992-October 1__st__ 2012_

_Rest in peace friend, brother, fighter and freedom rider._

"You were a good friend to have Amerika. Even better enemy." Russia said booming thunder covering the sound of rustling grass as someone came up behind him.

A hand came out of the darkness and spun Russia around, before he could react cold pale white hands gripped him by his coat and pulled him forward. Bluish eyes burned with a rage Russia had not seen since the cold war, blond hair blew in the wind.

"America?!" Russia gasped gripping the hands that would not release him.

"Wrong." This phantom growled. Russia looked at this person more closely and saw the differences. The fiery eyes were more purplish-blue than America's sky blue, blond hair was styled like America's; except for, one curlthat fell in front of the enraged face of Canada. Russia tugged at the hands of his attacker, he could not get away. Only America could match his strength, though when he thought about it. It made sense that his twin would have the same power, even if he didn't us it.

"I know you had something to do with this." Canada hissed, rage boiling over. "I don't know how but I know you did something to my brother and I'm going to make you pay."

Purple eyes froze over and using all his strength Russia jerked out of Canada's hands.

"I would worry more about what is to become of your brother's land and less about what I may have done." With a mockingly sweet smile Russia walked away.

Canada watched as his brother's worse enemy/friend disappear into the darkness and then turned to his twin's grave. He kneeled down on one knee, not caring that his jeans were getting wet he was already soaked to the bone. One hand reached out and traced the letters of Alfred's name.

"Don't worry, I'll make it right."

_**How 2p Hetalians were born!**_

By ncalkins, don't own anything that looks like something you've seen before, this is not pet cemetery!

'…_.' Nation thinking _

*2p Hetalian thinking.*

America dies and England wonders in a haze until the Fourth of July. We still celebrate Independence Day, though Matthew has become the persona of America and Canada. He had promised to keep America free; He made that promise to Alfred.

England woke up from his deadened state and threw a fit, he knocked back glass after glass of alcohol until he gets the idea to visit America. He opens a nations path and travels to America's grave. He sits for a while drinking some rum while sitting next to America's grave, his hand trailing through grass and over warm stone. England choked out a laugh.

"Well, git after all you're badgering I finally came to visit you on your birthday. It's just too late for you to celebrate."

"You're not celebrating at all, old man! Your just sitting here crying like a ninny lay off the beer light weight!" America's voice echoed in his head.

A smile tugged at England's lips, "Git."

That smile quickly gave away to a frown as a younger America's voice screamed in his head, "You said you'd be there! Why didn't you protect me?"

A sob escaped, England pleaded.

"I couldn't I didn't know you would die. Stupid why didn't you eat right, stupid probably died from a heart attack. Your not even suppose to have food or drink in the meeting room, WHY CAN'T YOU EVER FOLLOW THE RULES!"_'_

_He learned from the best.' _England thought frowning, he throwing the now empty bottle to crash against a mausoleum.

"I'm a former Pirate, a Pireeter I never play by the rules."

An enlightened look dawned on England's face, he turned his head to America's grave the name Alfred F. Jones glowing with each firework that busted over head.

"I never play by the rules." England whispered.A crazed smile twisted its way on England's face.

"I never play by the rules. Don't worry Alfie I'll be back~."

Once more, he opened the nation's path and he scrambled through, practically running toward his own country. Within minutes, he was back in his home. He rushed to his basement, grabbing the chalk he drew a circle muttering to himself what he would need.

"I need some tears of a unicorn and clothe of the reaper. Bouvardia for the zest of life, a Daffodil for rebirth, Gladiolus flower for remembrance, white Heather for wishes will come true."

He gathered all those ingredients and placed them in the circle and remembered the most important ingredient he needed, he rushed to his gardening shed and grabbed a shovel. Opening a nation path once more and feeling slightly sick once he reached the other side, it really wasn't healthy to be doing that more than once. He began to dig up America's grave, when he reached the mahogany coffin he used strength he couldn't remember having and busted the top off the coffin. He reached down and gently removed America's cold body. He scrambled out of the gave and for a moment collapsed cradling America close, a relaxed face stared up at him. America's head lolled in a lifeless way, his pale skin flashed red then blue as fire works exploded above them.

"Soon ducky, soon you'll be back and I won't let you go." England muttered as he caressed America's face, with surprising strength he lifted the body of his dear one and once more opened a path.

He crossed over into his basement a small part of him worried about leaving a destroyed coffin, an open grave and a shovel at the scene the larger part of him was too tired and focused to placed America in the middle of the circle surrounded by the flowers and other things. He stepped out and began to chant.

"emoc kcab tirips fo aciremA." (Come back spirit of America - it's backwards)

He chanted three times until he heard a voice,"England? What?"

A smile upturned his lips as acid green eyes opened, there before him was the spirit of America looking confused as he took in the casting ground. Blue eyes finally landed on the relaxed face of his body.

"Man, I'm wearing a suit! They know I hate suits!" America whined running a hand over his face.

England felt a laugh bubble with in him; he ruthlessly squashed it and while America was distracted, began to chant.

"Soul return to the body, let the body remember how to live, let my wish be filled and bring America back to me!"

America felt a pull to his soul; it was small at first then became more forceful and more painful. America yelped and whined as he was pulled toward his body, he tried to fight it when he couldn't he screamed.

"England! England, man what are you doing! Stop it! It hurts!"

_'I'm sorry America, it's for your own good.'_ England thought as tears streamed down his face, the sound of America's pain sliced at his heart like knives.

He continued chanting until he heard a sputtering. America was sitting up and breathing hard as if he had drowned, blue eyes met green and both pairs rolled back into their heads.

Canada stood shaking with rage violet eyes boiling with tears, roses were being crushed in his hand.

"Who….who did this to my brother. For God's Sake Couldn't You People Leave Him In Peace!"

Days passed; Canada had made police searched for this grave robber. The shovel had prints, however they didn't match anyone in the world. Therefore, Canada now knew it was one of the countries. The question was which one.

While Canada was searching for the grave robber, England was spending time with America and growing more worried with each passing day. He continued to try to feed America even gave him the slop from McDonald's, the food tasted fine according to America but it always came back up as if he couldn't stomach it. His skin turned paler, he had sunken cheeks and England knew if he didn't do something soon he would lose his little bother once again. So when he promised that the food would stay this time and blue eyes peered at him with trust but also a tired disbelieve he was willing to try anything, even the old superstition that the dead eat the living. He stalked his streets looking for someone anyone in the dead of night to feed his little brother.

He saw someone lurking in the shadows; he scanned his brain for info on this shadow. A murderer, perfect no one would miss him. England's hand snapped out and a knife flew out of his sleeve, a gurgle came from the dark were the knife hit. England walked forward, he kept the knife in to stench the flow of blood, and he wrapped the body in his tweed jacket and picked it up bridle style. Opening the nation's path within a second he was in his kitchen as he laid the body down on the table, he never noticed the pink swirling in his began to cut up the body a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

_How can I do this? Even if this was a murderer he's still my citizen. _another voice came into his head sickly sweet. *If we don't, we'll lose Alfie~.*

With new determination England continued. The body was cut up; the meat was stripped from the bones; the fat boiled away and grounded with a meat grinder; the bones placed in a bag on the floor. He mixed it with hamburger meat he had taken to having at his home for America. As the meat cooked he was suddenly whacked with the want to make cupcakes, he ignored it and waited for the hamburger to finish. Once it was done and England places it on a bun, with condiments, lettuces and tomatoes.

The pink in his eyes had receded to a barely there line around his pupil. As he took the plate to America he passed the bag of bones, it had been knocked over and was now spilling out on the floor. Two cats and two dogs were munching on them; two were familiar and the others weren't, but he didn't feel worried. As he passed the unfamiliar dog and cat; they raised their heads reviling mixed matched eyes one pink and one blue as they licked their especially sharp teeth.

England walked over to the prone American and presented the hamburger. America looked at him with tired eyes ang grabbed hold of the given hamburger. He took a bite and moaned at the taste.

"Your food's never tasted this good before!""Git my food is always perfect!" England huffed as the sickly sweet voice said, *Thank you dear~!*

America finished his food and they waited, when nothing happened America flashed a huge grin at England. England felt his own smile forming, "Now don't get to excited, we'll wait until morning for the real verdict."

America nodded and settled in his bed, feeling for the first time in a while, full and so very sleepy. As soon as America was asleep; England tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

As he walked out of the room he said, "It's okay Alfie, now that I know what to do. Big brother will take care of you~."

Pink squiggles were making there way through forest green as England closed America's door.

What you think?


	2. Canada and Kumajirou

_**How 2p Hetalians were born!**_

By ncalkins, don't own anything that looks like something you've seen before, this is not pet cemetery!

'…_.' Nation thinking _

*2p Hetalian thinking.*

Canada could remember it like it was yesterday. Waiting for his brother, seeing Russia leave the meeting room and finding his brother **dead **on the floor. He was certain that Russia had something to do with it; he tried to face him at America's funeral, but without any proof he couldn't do anything. All he could do was keep his brother's lands out of the hands of the other countries, it was pretty easy. All of the other nations were in shock, and those that tried to get his land…well, Canada found he could be quite persuasive. After that, disaster struck on the anniversary of his brother's independence day someone desecrated his brother's grave and took his body. Canada rarely felt such anger; he wanted to kill someone. When they found out that the prints were not human, but nation Canada swore vengeance.

He still hasn't gotten it though! It frustrated him to no end! Anyone of the nations could be the asshat (one of his brother's favorite insults; it grew on Canada) that dug up his brother! It didn't help that Canada was feeling the pressure of being the personification of the world's super power or the world's watch dog whichever. It wasn't even the fact that Canada was running his brother's country! America's country ran itself, Canada just showed up for the world meetings as a representation. That's where the trouble starts.

For one thing, no one really wants to take part anymore, and the meetings are so boring. For another, he gets blamed for everything! Even for things that are not his fault!

"Matthew, why isn't America doing something about my crisis?"

"You're just as stupid as your brother; always running around thinking your better than everyone else!"

Canada felt new emotions taking over growing stronger every day. The pressure was making him crack; the blame was making his want to retreat from everyone and he could feel paranoia settling in. Everyone wanted his brother's lands, his brother's freedom, they wanted his brother, they took his brother and they would pay.

Canada walked into the building where the world meeting would be held. His black shoes hit the wooden floor as he walked down the hallway to the meeting room. The white walls were giving him a headache; he pulled out his sunglasses and replaced his normal glasses with them. He had grown out his hair now it was shoulder length; he kept it into a pony tail except for the one curl that hanged in-front of his face.

As he walked he noticed France coming his way. France was wearing a dark blue suit with an ice blue tie and a white button down shirt. The french man brightened when he saw Canada as he walked closer though that bright look was replaced with a worried look.

"Canada are you alright?" France asked concerned blue eyes trailing down Canada's body.

"Fine." Canada growled, glaring in annoyance at France. For some reason just seeing anyone worked on his nerve.

"Are you sure mon chérie?" France asked looking at Canada. Canada fed up with France's attention snapped.

"I am not your dear." He said in a low voice. "I am not your beloved nor am I yours."

France flinched, but Canada didn't care. "You are nothing to me. You left me as a child for months on end, war and greed more important then raising your so call little brother."

France hoped his mouth to defend himself, but clicked his mouth close when Canada gave him a harsh glare over his glasses. Canada continued to hiss out anything he knew would hurt France as long as he got off his back.

"You gave up on me when England won me, used me like a bargaining chip, like a toy that could be taken from you. You are greedy, selfish, rude, perverted, you care for no one but yourself."

With every word France's eyes lost a bit more of their light; he still looked worried, but he looked defeated as well. Canada felt cruel satisfaction well up inside him. It felt good to be noticed, it felt good to be heard and it felt good to be the one dealing the punches instead of taking them.

"You claim to be the country of love, but all you know is lust. Wait, I take that back."

Blue eyes lightened with hope; Canada looked down at his shoes. Pretending to be sad as he looked at his shiny black shoes. "You do know love, but only for yourself." Canada felt his lips twist into a cruel smile as France flinched back as if he took a physical blow.

"You never noticed me. Not when I was a child, second best to America. Not when I was a teen, left with England. And certainly not when I was an adult, so stop acting like you care."

"Mon," France stopped and started over as he was reaching out to Canada. He rested his hands on Canada's shoulders. "Mathieu, I do love you. Very much. You just have to understand what I had to do then, what I was going through. I'm sorry you felt like I didn't love you, but frère hadto do whathehadto." France smiled hopefully

Canada began to chuckle darkly, glaring at France from behind his shades. "There you go again. It's all about you isn't République Française?"

Canada sneered as hepushedFrance out oftheway. He walked down the hallway passing several nations that tried their best to stay out of his way. Canada had changed from the soft-spoken over looked country they had ignored. Now, he was practically impossible to ignore. If only because of the dark aura he gave out.

With each passing nation Canada studied them. Wondering who had destroyed his brother's grave; he wanted to force them to give up their prints, but his boss said it would be improper.

Canada snorted as he caught sight of someone he didn't all together mind seeing; though that might be because he had been there Canada's whole life.

"Hey, England."

"Hey is for horses." England said as he turned around. He was wearing his normal dark green suit; except for one thing, a hideous pink tie jumped out from his white shirt.

Canada stared at the monstrosity until finally he just pointed at it and asked, "Why?"

England smoothed down the pink tie with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

"Yes, well I think it would be a nice change to add a little color to my wardrobe. Besides I think I look dashing with this pink tie."

A proud smile passed over his lips, the pink in his eyes growing just a bit. That smile turned to a frown as the pink receded. England gave Canada a sharp look.

"And don't point, it's rude." England said disapprovingly, waging his finger.

Canada slumped feeling the weight of the disapproval. It seemed something still haven't changed; one of them is England still had a firm influence on Canada. Reflecting on how America acted; Canada realized that England was a big influence on both of them. Even if for a while America tried to deny it.

"How are you?" Came a Canada's soft-spoken voice. Purple eyes peered at England through the sunglasses.

"Oh, I'm fine." England said waving his left hand that was clutching a piece of paper in front of him. Canada noticing the paper asked, "What is that?"

"This?" England asked holding up the paper. Canada nodded his head; England smiled a secret smile. "Just a shopping list."

Canada noticed in England's other hands was a newspaper. The head-titles informing of another disappearance that had taken place, it was suspected that the victim was dead.

"A lot of disappearances are your house lately." Canada said a weary feeling took over him as he looked into England's eyes. Has there always been that pink line hidden in the green?

England did something that Canada never heard him do before, giggle. England soon realized what he did and coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Yes, well, their all murders, rapist, child molesters, kidnappers and the like. It doesn't really matter if their gone, in fact some people are of the opinion that it is for the best."

England opened the newspaper and showed a column to Canada. Canada leaned in close to England, though part of him was begging that put some distance between them. The column was about the disappearances and about the people who had come forward to tell of what the missing had done to them, in the column the columnist asked what people thought about the disappearances and the responses went a little like this.

**Good riddance to bad rubbish.**

**Those bastards deserve what they got. **

**Karma's a bitch.**

**Are you all forgetting that the person taking and killing this is a murder and a kidnapper as well? He's breaking the law. Now, don't get me wrong I want these guys caught as well, but some loony running around attacking people like he's some angel of judgment is not the right way to go about it. They should have been turned into the police.**

**Hurray for Karma!**

Canada looked at the rest of the of the comments, each one changing in opinion. Some encouraging the kidnappings/killing and others condemning it. He sent a look at England who seemed happier; almost like he was glowing with joy.

"So, you think it doesn't matter? Even though their bad people their still your citizens."

England snapped the newspaper away and tucked it under his arm. He gave Canada a cool look and snappily said, "I know their my citizens, but sometimes these things need to happen to protect and care for someone you care about."

Canada gave him a confused look. "Do you know who is doing this?"

England took a deep breath, letting it out; he said. "No, I don't. I just know that the people who has targeted my innocent ones are disappearing. Crime is going down and people are feeling safer." He looked at his watch and motioned with his head toward the meeting room. "It's about time for the meeting to start. We should get in there."

Canada consented and following England he couldn't help but wonder what was different about him. As England opened the door; he gave a crooked grin saying. "After you poppet."

*Freak.* Was the rough sounding thought that resounded in Canada's head as he passed England. He felt uneasy around him. There was something strange about him. Everything was changing.

The meeting went along normally. People weren't really paying attention, but they weren't as loud as they use to be when America was alive. The nations were not as lively. Each of them sat in their seats with their flag behind them. From what Canada could see France kept trying to get England to fight with him only to get brushed off. England was writing on his shopping list mumbling to himself. Germany was taking notes he was the only one. The others talked among themselves except for the Italians who were sleeping.

Canada was bored as he was giving his speech over America's economy. He felt tired and stressed as he read from his note cards. Canada wished for this meeting to be over as he pointed to his power-point showing the difference between last month's and the current month's stock. He was just about to mention America's growing job market when he heard something that made him freeze.

"Figures it takes America dying for his people to get off their fat asses." Cuba grunted in amusement. He was proud that his friend Canada was taking up the mantel trying to help his brother's left over mess. Though it didn't mean he liked America; besides, his friend Canada was changing under all that pressure and in his eyes it was all America's fault even if he was dead.

Canada's blood boiled; his teeth clenched as well as his fist. He tried to control his anger. After all Cuba was his friend and he always said rude things about America, so like always he should ignore it. Really, the way the world picked on his brother (dead or alive) Canada was starting to think they all had a crush him America.

_"__Haters gonna Hate!"_ America's laugh echoed in his head making Canada relax to a certain existent.

Canada felt a smile tug at his lips as he tried to continue his presentation. That smile quickly turned into a frown as someone else piped up about America.

"Da America was fat and lazy. He had no motivation" Russia said with a creepy smile as he leered at Lithuania; no one will be able to stop him from making others become one with him.

"Russia don't you think that was uncalled for?" France said casting a cautions eye toward Canada who seemed to be growing tensor with ever passing second. "You should not speak ill of the dead. Besides, you cannot say you have forgotten all the good the United States of America have done over the span of time. Sure he messed up at times, but who hasn't. Not to mention all the technology we would not have if it wasn't for his people or the improved technology."

Russia was about to answered when a fist hit him in the face. Canada had finally snapped; he had jumped over the table and was repeatedly hitting Russia in the face. It felt so good to get that bastard. He had waited for this since his brother's death.

Russia grabbed Canada's hand that was clenching his coat, his other hand grabbed Canada's fist as it came down. Through a broken nose, Russia laughed as blood ran down his face.

"You want to play, Comrade?"

With that Russia rolled until he was on top of Canada. He gripped both of Canada's arms in one hand and began to hit Canada in the face. Canada's lip busted and his nose bleed as he struggled against Russia's hold. He dimly noticed that his sunglasses were missing having been dislodged when they were rolling on the floor.

"Mon dieu!" Someone yelled. Canada had a pretty good guess who, but he had more important things to worry about. Like getting this hoser off of him. Canada reeled back his head as far as he could and whipped it forward headbutting Russia in the mouth.

However, instead of letting him go Russia just laughed, delight danced in his eyes as he raised his fist to once again hit Canada. That fist never landed because a black end of a pole hit him in the temple as a blue covered body pushed him off of Canada.

"Get off of him!" France screamed as he pushed off Russia; he couldn't believe he was doing this. But, he wanted to prove Canada wrong. He did care for him even if Canada didn't believe it.

France's hand turned white with the pressure he was gripping his flag. He pointed the point toward Russia. His feet were spread apart, ready to rush forward. His flag we as tucked in toward the pole one of his hands gripping the fabric and the other gripped the pole.

Canada scrambled to his feet glaring at France. Russia was getting up smiling creepily making France shivered. Before Russia could retaliate Canada stepped forward. He gripped the flagpole and pushed France snarling. "Stay out of this!"

France stummbled back still holding onto his flag which ripped off the pole. France clutched his flag close as he watched Canada take a aggressive stance pointing the point toward Russia. All of them could hear the Germany yelling.

"HALT! WE ARE SUPPOSE TO BE SOLVING THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS NOT FIGHT OVER STUPID COMMENTS!"

Italy crying and Romano cursing, apparently the noise work them up.

"VEEEEE! GERMANY! SAVE MEEEEE!"

"STUPID FUCKING DUMASS MAPLE LOVING BASTARD! YOU WOKE ME UP!"

Spain and Japan trying to calm both of them down.

"Eh, Romano calm down. Your nap was almost over anyways." Spain said as he patted Romano on the back. Romano glared at him as he snapped. "That's not the fucking point."

"Italy-kun it's okay. I disbelieve that Canada-san or Russia-san is going to come after you." Japan said soothingly as he video taped the fight planing to put it on YouTube.

Cuba yelling at Russia to leave Canada alone. The Baltics cowering, Prussia fidgeting in the corner and Poland cheering. "Yeah, go maple bro-ski like kick his stupid face in."

Canada briefly reflected that this had to be the most lively the other countries have been for months as he charged forward aiming for the underside of Russia's head. Russia smiled and raised his arm to his sides showing no sigh of blocking. Just when the point was about to skewer Russia he gripped the pole in both hands. A bead of blood broke out and dropping onto his scarf.

"You dirtied my scarf comrade. You will pay for that." Russia said as he broke the pole in half.

Canada backed up looking at the splintered half of the pole that was still in his hands; it was still sharp enough to do some damage. Canada tightened his grip on the pole, yelling, he charged forward. Only to be hit across the head with Russia's pipe. Blood splattered on the cold iron. Canada went flying across the room, hitting the wall next to the door hard. Red clouded his vision as blood ran into his eyes. Canada glared at the smug Russia as he spat onto the floor leaving a bloody globe much to Germany's agitation.

_*That dame pipe.* _Canada thought as he glared at Russia whipping the blood from his lips. He got up as Russia approached, preparing himself to fight. Dark blue/purple eyes roved around the room looking for a new weapon. There was no way he was facing an armed opponent without a weapon himself.

Just when he resigned himself to using another flag pole a shot rang out. A bullet zipped its way between Canada and Russia; they both turned their heads to look at the one that shot at them. Switzerland stood in the door way gun still in hand pointed their way.

"Stop fighting. Your scaring Lichtenstein." Switzerland said bottle green eyes glared at them under blond bangs.

The rest of the countries looked over at Lichtenstein who seemed to be ignoring them all reading a book. She was wearing noise canceling head phones listening to music.

"She does not look scared to me. Aru." China said fingering his long red sleeves.

Switzerland ignored him as he shouldered his gun. He closed his eyes and adopted a know-it-all look, saying, "This is why you should allow me to have my guns with me. Who's going to stop these stupid quarrels."

Canada coughed and straitened. "Perhaps we should dismiss for the day."

"Yes, that would be for the best." Germany said glared at Canada and Russia saying sternly, "I hope this will not happen again."

Canada grimaced as he walked toward the podium he quickly gathered his stuff and was the first one out of the room and the building. As he drove home he couldn't help but play the fight over and over in his head. It bothered him that Russia got the upper hand.

_'I need to get stronger. I need a weapon.'_

"Alfred, I'm home!" England called as he closed his mahogany door. He was carrying some groceries, a bit of food and a bit of drink. He walked to the kitchen and began to put up the food items not touching on bag. Once he was done he walked over to the left over bag and made his way to Alfred's room.

"Git better appreciate what I've done for him." England grumbled as he carried the bag.

He entered Alfred's room soft red carpet darkened under his shoes as he walked to the king sized bed. Alfred laid under the red silk sheets staring at the canopy with his arms under his head. England cleared his throat making Alfred look at him. Blue eyes brightened in a way England had not seen since America was a child.

"Hey, dude! How was the meeting? What's in the bag? Can I go outside?"

England shook his head at the line of questions. The saying was true. The more things change the more they stay the same. With practiced ease England answered, as he sat the bag onto the bed.

"It went fine; the usual things happened. Things for your amusement. No, not until you get your strength back."

America looked through the bag pulling out games for a game-boy (do not own), magazines, anime, books and even toys. He looked at all the things with interest; part of him couldn't wait to look through everything thoroughly. But, it wasn't enough.

"Common man," America whined. "I've been stuck in the bed for two days can't I at least walk around the house."

"If you can stand for two seconds without falling then maybe." England said bending down to reach under the bed for a chamberpot. He took it to the attached bathroom and flushed the contents down the toilet. As he was replacing the chamberpot he noticed with grim satisfaction that America was grumbling.

"Well, why don't you get a hobby that challenges the mind for a while. Tell me something that you like to do and I'll try to find something for you." England said as he went to wash he hands.

America looked after England it was the first time in a long time England ever wanted to know about America's hobbies. He said almost shyly. "I like to build things."

As England washed his hands in the white sink he muttered. "Of course you do." Then he called to America. "I'll see what I can do."

He never saw the blinding happiness that passed over America's face.

As soon Canada got home the first thing he did besides walk through the door was look for a weapon. He had pondered on what type of weapon to use at first he thought guns, but that was America's thing. As he rifled through his house he passed by Kumajirou, he never noticed that the polar bear was slightly bigger with rougher fur. Canada looked though his storage room and found muskets, but that was a gun. He found knifes, but that weapon was already taken by Russia's sister.

"Isn't there anything around here that will make a good weapon?" He growled to himself. Kumajirou passed by him spared a glanced to his owner and walked to the corner.

Kumajirou sneezed everything was covered in dust. Boxes upon boxes lined the walls. Boxes filled with Canada's past; objects, diaries, books, letters, clothes and even a stuffed moose was in one of them. As Kumajirou walked over to his destination he called to his owner.

"You need to clean this place."

"I know Kimikijiro; I'll get to it eventually."

"Who?" Kumajirou could see the object that he wanted.

"I'm Canada."

* 'I know who you are.' * Kumajirou growled in his head, his fur standing on end as he slapped the wooden stick.

A clatter echoed though out the storage room; Canada looked up from his dusty old Mountie uniform. There to the side of Kumajirou was his hockey stick. Canada gently laid the old uniform down and walked over to Kumajirou, he pick up the stick. Turning the red stick around in his hands. He gave a practice swing hitting the wall. The stick got stuck, Canada gave a jerk ripping the stick and large chunk out of the wall. He looked at the hole and then to his hockey stick. A nasty grin over came his face.

"This will work."

Review for 2p Kumajirou!

Thanks to one of my betas I'll be able to continue to write stories thanks to FF's copy and paste option on Upload.

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